Snatches of Memories
by hurricanes
Summary: A small prequel to 'One Last Visit', it explores memories shared between Harry and Hermione, and the mysterious reason as to why Harry was visiting her grave.


[_Memory One_]

He cannot remember how many people were at the gala that night, nor the speech he made nervously. He is unable to recall what suit his best friend was wearing, or the colour of his tie. But what he does remember, crystal clear, as though the memory has been imprinted on the forefront of his mind, is how she looked. How she felt in his arms as they danced, awkwardly he might add, around the ballroom. She felt like home, like family. How he wishes he had realised sooner that she was his family, she was the only thing that made him feel safe, truly safe in their war-torn world. He remembers how beautiful her eyes looked that night, they were not blazing, or twinkling, but they were warm and welcoming, they were comforting, familiar. In the chaos that consumed his life, that was perfection for him.

[_Memory Two_]

What he does remember of the day she told him why she was so ill is the sadness in her eyes, the disappointment. Not that she was ill, but that she was not strong enough to stay by his side. She had told him she wished she was stronger, he vehemently refused this, telling her she had been strong for long enough. Through everything, they had been there for each other, their support never wavering, remaining. And now, because of a stray curse never meant for her, meant for him, she was going to leave him. Her final sacrifice for him.

[_Memory Three_]

Graduation, two years late due to the disruption of the war. She had insisted it would be good for them, and at first he thought he had finally proved the greatest mind of their generation wrong. But being back in a routine, back somewhere that gave him his family, that had become his home, it healed. Hogwarts wasn't just a school to them; it hadn't been since he had first arrived. Hogwarts held the wonders of the world that had been hidden from him until he was eleven years of age, and Hogwarts gave him her. Imagining where he would be without her was a truly terrifying thought. She graduated top of the year, as they had all predicted, breaking records he didn't even know existed.

[_Memory Four_]

They heard about the attack through Kingsley, he had warned them of renegade death eaters who wanted revenge for the death of their master. 'Nothing to worry about, we'll have them rounded up in no time'. But it was like a moth to a flame, the Golden Trio to death eaters. Where trouble was, you would find the three of them, wands firing curse after curse, standing fiercely together. They had severely underestimated these death eaters; they believed them to only be low level, mindless followers who wanted a chance at glory. How wrong they were. These were trained killers, who had spent a lot of time focusing on how exactly the trio fought, they knew their weaknesses. For Ron, unpredictability was his weakness, he was a strategist and he worked on the premise that he would be able to predict the next move the enemy would make. Hermione, she relied on her vast knowledge of spells to be able to figure out her enemy. Harry worked on sheer bravery, charging in and having an innate advantage of being exceptionally good at duelling.

[_Memory Five_]

The battle had raged on late into the night, neither side seemed to be making much progress; it was a stalemate. He remembers Kingsley urging her to use a spell she had been researching to force the death eaters out of their hiding spots, out into the open. Initially she had refused, it was too dark, too brutal, she was not powerful enough. He volunteered to cast the spell, and an hour later, after some tutoring, he felt confident enough to hurl it over their defense towards the enemy. That was the moment, the exact moment he can pinpoint, where his world was flung out of proportion, everything safe he knew became dangerous.

[_Memory Six_]

How beautiful she was at the Yule Ball.

[_Memory Seven_]

The endless arguing with Ron that year, he couldn't stand seeing his two best friends at each others throats all the time, taking sides became a minefield, who was right? Neither of them probably, but who wanted to argue with two thirds of the Golden Trio?

[_Memory Eight_]

He remembers how much he had pleaded with her to remain at home that evening; they did not need her to risk her already failing health for - what they thought to be - a few measly death eaters. But she had insisted, where they went, she went. So she came along. Watching her fight you would not have been able to guess just how ill she really was, her strength was incredible, even in the last few hours of her life.

[_Memory Nine_]

As soon as he hurled the curse over their defense line, he knew he had made a mistake. That spell was dark, it was dangerous, and they had found it in the Black family library, where certain deceased death eaters would have had access to in their younger years. He cannot recall what the counter-curse that was snarled back at them was, nor can he remember the colour of the spell. All he remembers is a flash of brown bushy hair covering his vision and a weight forcing him to the ground.

[_Memory Ten_]

Planning it all was a blur; he does not even remember what suit he wore. He does not remember how he broke most of his furniture in a fit of rage. Nor how many dinners he left to go cold outside of his door. The gravestone is a beautifully carved, individual piece, in the shape of her favourite book – Hogwarts, A History. He visits almost everyday, talking to her… seeing her.


End file.
